TARIN'S ENDGAME
by Thuria
Summary: He stood with one foot on the parapet, his arms crossed on his knee, looking out over his city. He didn't see me at first, and I stood for a long moment watching him, and wishing . . . wishing nonsense! The likes of me had no business wanting the likes of the Jeddak of Kobol!.
1. Chapter 1

_This novella is based on Burrough's books and __not__ the movie, and though it continues on from "_Cara and Kantos"_ in Lara's universe, it's a stand-alone. _

_There are several references to Jetan, or Barsoomian chess. For Tara and Gahan's story (and even instructions for playing the game) read _Chessmen of Mars_, by Edgar Rice Burroughs. It can be found in this section. Yes, the prose is a hundred years old and his ideas about women were typical of his day. However. I suspect he received a few letters about Dejah's wimpishness because Tara is a much stronger character. Nobody could write adventure like ERB. He was the Father of space opera, and in my opinion has rarely been equalled. Too bad Disney botched it._

DJORA'S ENDGAME

CHAPTER 1 - Djora

The battleship, too large to land inside Kobol, landed on the plain outside the walls. About a hundred of us, all female panthans who had been hired by Danalla, the false jeddara of Korad _[see Cara and Kantos]_, were marched under guard to a barracks building, where we waited until our fate was decided for us.

Many feared life imprisonment or exile. Some were convinced that we would be made to duel to the death in the arena – Kobol's once-notorious reputation as a city to be feared still lingered in the minds of the ignorant. I, at least, knew better. What I could not guess was our destiny.

We were all freed!

It was the last thing any of us expected, and probably the first time in my life that anything truly fortuitous had happened to me. With a few others I applied to remain in Kobol on probation until I could prove myself.

A half year later, I had earned the position of night guard in the hanger on the roof of the royal palace. There are few occupations more tedious.

On the third night on duty, I had made the rounds of the roof every hour throughout the night, and, to occupy myself, often twice an hour. Just a few ads below me in the palace lived people whose lives of luxury seemed unimaginable.

Perhaps Cara was there. I still vividly recalled watching her, mesmerized, as she walked the length of the ancient throne room in Korad, her hair flaming around her fair face and dressed in a sumptuous ball gown fit for a jeddara. We were all left breathless when, in spite of their peril, she embraced Kantos Kan with a palpable joy that few of us would ever know

The Jeddak's mother, Lara, might even be in the room directly below at this moment – a woman of whom I stood in awe. She was Jasoomian like John Carter whom I had seen once riding a ceremonial thoat after his great victory at Gandor. I often wondered about their planet, which I could see low on the eastern horizon even now – a point of blue light in the sky.

"I was born there, you know," said a masculine voice from directly behind me.

Gasping, I whirled, whipped my sword from its scabbard and held up my radium bulb. As I aimed the point of my sword at the heart of the red-haired fair-skinned man who stood looking down at me, he opened his palms and spread his arms wide to show he was unarmed.

Tarin, the Jeddak of Kobol, grinned in admiration. "You're _fast_."

Cursing myself as an idiot for dreaming on duty, I said, "Obviously not fast enough, my Lord. I beg leave to find a replacement."

"Nonsense," he said. "The fault is mine."

"My Lord! I . . . "

He stepped up to me and placed a finger on my lips. "Shhh. I was not testing you. Allow me to enjoy my walk in peace?"

Swallowing further protest, I sheathed my sword, drew myself to attention, and said, "Of course, my Lord."

As he walked away, I took several deep breaths to calm my heart. It was not just the fright that had set it pounding. With that single feather touch of his finger to my lips my whole being had been set aflame.

I discovered that he walked the parapets nearly every morning before sunrise, though I rarely saw him. In fact, I contrived to avoid him by timing my rounds so that I would be on the opposite side of the roof from him. Days passed – or rather nights, for me – as I pursued my boring duties. If we did happen to pass, he nodded but did not speak.

Not, at least, until he confronted me on one of my rounds.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Djora, my Lord." I said crisply, looking straight ahead and not at him.

"Djora, how well do you fence?"

Taken aback, it took me a few seconds to absorb the question. Why did he want to know? Finally I stammered, "I – uh, quite well, my Lord."

"When is your next free day?"

"Tomorrow, my Lord."

He rolled his eyes in evident exasperation, but I had no idea why. He merely nodded and walked away.

On the following day I received a private message from the Jeddak to meet him that evening in the hanger, and ordering me to bring my sword.

The hanger guard was not in sight when I arrived about two hours before sunset. (I learned later he had been dismissed until recalled). The Jeddak was waiting for me, sitting on the parapet dangling one leg. He was wearing an old black tunic, cinched with a plain leather belt and a harness bearing only a worn scabbard and practice sword.

He said, "I fear I'm taking up your free time. If you do not wish to stay, you need not."

I nearly gaped open-mouthed at him. He was Jeddak and I was obeying orders! Why was he apologizing?

I managed to say, "If you wll tell me why you want me here, then perhaps I could decide. My Lord."

He looked to the heavens and growled, "Issus, woman! Stop '_my lording'_ me!" I hear it all day to the point that I could . . . "

I swear I heard him grinding his teeth. I bit my lip, hard, but couldn't quite prevent a smile.

He noticed, and snorted. "Lara would say, 'Patience, Tarin!' But patience is difficult with heavy duties and lack of sleep."

I frowned at him. "That sounds like a contradiction in terms, my – " I clamped down on my tongue.

"My 'heavy duties' are those of sitting on a throne all day dealing out judgments. Mental, rather than physical."

"And lack of sleep is the result of little or no exercise."

"Exactly." he agreed. "Which is why you're here. I need someone to fence with."

"But why don't you work out with your guards?"

"After they've been standing on their feet guarding me all day? Besides, they no longer offer a challenge. My sister Cara could best me but she lives in Helium now. And my parents could, of course. But I need someone – different . . . which is why I asked you. I know that female panthans are usually well trained."

"Then," I said, "It would be my honour to stay." An understatement, to say the least!

We found an open area on the roof free of flyers, squared off, and saluted.

He was good. No – he was the best swordsman I've ever crossed blades with, but I did manage to give a good account of myself. Though he was bigger and stronger, my smaller stature gave me the advantage of speed. By the end of the match, we were tied on points. I was stunned – it should not have happened.

He sat abruptly on the parapet, and I was alarmed to see that his chest was heaving as he strained to breathe.

"My – are you all right?" I asked in alarm.

He nodded and when his breathing slowed, he said, "I've inherited my mother's Jasoomian lungs, which require more oxygen than Barsoom is willing to provide. It's another reason I hesitate to duel with my guards. If they knew, word might spread. A jeddak after all," he added ironically, "must be able to defend his kingdom against all comers."

I stared at him aghast. It was an admission I would never have expected from him. How incredibly vulnerable he was!

"Why tell me?" I asked. "You don't know me. I'm just as likely to reveal your secret as your guards."

He gave me a penetrating look. "Are you, Djora? From the day we met, I have believed you to be honourable."

I sniffed a little bitterly. "That's usually a term associated with men." Female panthans were never considered the equal of men, either in skill or in honour.

"My mother Lara is honourable. As is my sister Cara. Are _you_, Djora?"

I looked straight into his grey eyes and said, "I am, my Lord."

"Tarin," he said.

I took a shaky breath. "T-Tarin," I repeated, faintly.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 - Djora

After our bout the next evening, Tarin rested for a few minutes, catching his breath. Then he stood up, saying, "Walk with me?"

As we walked slowly around the perimeter of the roof, the sun plummeted over the edge of the world, and within moments the dazzling starry sky of Barsoom burst into being. It reminded me of what Tarin had first said to me. I think everyone on the planet knew he and Cara had been born live and raised on Jasoom for their first six years.

"What was it like?" I asked, feeling terribly daring. "Jasoom?"

He was silent for a moment before replying. "I was a small child, of course, and most of those memories are vague. But I do remember the lower slopes of the mountains were covered with thick green forests. Higher still, ice-covered peaks glistened in the sun. In the valley, the lake, deep blue and green, reflected the mountains.

"In winter we would play in the _snow_ – "

"_Snow_?" I repeated. It was not a Barsoomian word.

"A kind of frozen water so light that it drifts slowly down from the sky. If it was cold enough, it would pile up and an all-day snowfall could be as deep as a man's arm. We would slide down the hillsides on _sleds_ or _skis_. . ."

When he saw my look of inquiry, he explained, "It would be something like sliding down a sand dune on one or two flat boards."

"It sounds dangerous," I said dubiously.

"Oh no – snow is soft. If we fell off we didn't hurt ourselves."

He saw I was having difficulty visualizing _snow. _"I suppose you would have to experience it to believe it."

"The winters were wonderful, but summers were idyllic. We would often cruise on the water in the canoe – " When I opened my mouth he smiled. "A vessel that floats which is propelled with _paddles_." He noticed my puzzlement but went on anyway. "On hot days Cara and I would swim in the water with Lara." Tarin chuckled, "Carthan would sit on the shore and watch in trepidation."

My imagination failed to produce an image of children propelling themselves in water warm enough to enter and deep enough in which to float!

Tarin gave me a chastened look. "My apologies Djora. Nearly all my kin are either Jasoomian or part-Jasoomian and understand my references. You cannot be expected to comprehend the incomprehensible. Tell me, instead, about _you_."

I didn't want to. My poor sad tale could not possibly be of interest to the Jeddak of Kobol!

He sensed my reluctance, and said, "You're from Helium, aren't you?"

I looked at him, startled. "How did you know?"

"It's the cadence of your speech." He smiled. "I know a few people in Helium –."

Namely Tardos Mors, Mors Kajak, and Dejah Thoris!My head spun.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, I grew up in Helium. I broke my shell in the house of an ancient woman who cared for me indifferently until I was fully grown, at which point the tables were turned. With no place to go and few skills, I attended to her needs under impoverished circumstances until she died a few years later."

I thought my dismal story would bore him, but he urged me to go on. "Do you know who your parents were?"

I shook my head. "The old woman only told me that my incubator had been left with her by a warrior intending to return for it. But he never came back. She said she named me for him."

"Djor?" Tarin hazarded.

"I really don't know."

"Hmm," he murmured. "That's odd. I seem to . . ." He was lost in thought for a moment, and then shook his head as he failed to recall.

He said, "Go on – what did you do next?"

I shrugged. "I was free then, and having a restless disposition, I sought adventure and begged to join a group of female panthans. I still do not know why they took me in, young and ignorant as I was, but in time they became my family. They taught me to fight – and fight well – with swords, hands, feet, and even teeth! I became the equal of most trained male warriors.

"In time they allowed me to join them as a full member of their society. Our work was generally not onerous, chiefly providing services as guards for upper class women.

"Then someone heard that the 'jeddara of Korad' was looking for female soldiers and would pay well. About half of us decided to go." I looked at him earnestly. "You must understand that we were paid to fight for her. A panthan doesn't have to believe in a cause."

"Of course not," he said. "There's no need to apologize."

In relief, I went on: "We had been in Korad less than half a year when your mother killed Danalla, the false jeddara.

"And good riddance too," I added fervently.

"Indeed," Tarin agreed.

Our bouts continued, but I soon discovered that beginning a night's work with a strenuous session of fencing did little to help me stay alert.

Gathering my courage, I finally asked Tarin in desperation if there was some other time we could practice and told him why.

I suspect Jeddaks do not normally rebuke themselves as dolts.

The very next day I was informed by my bemused Guard Commander that I would henceforth take the day shift at the palace. It worked out well. Though we still practiced at the same time each day, it was now at the end of my shift.

This routine continued for many weeks, and Tarin's endurance increased steadily as his body strengthened and his sleep habits improved At the same time my own skills grew exponentially as Tarin passed on fencing techniques he had learned from both Tara and John Carter.

I had been far too occupied with work and fencing practice to make friends with any of the female panthans with whom I shared a hostel not far from the palace. Perhaps I should have made a greater effort to know them. As far as I could determine, no one knew I was fencing with the Jeddak, but if someone discovered it, there would be no living it down.

One evening I was peacefully eating my dinner when I became aware that Gilla was recounting a rumour she had heard.

". . . and he's looking for both male and female panthans – doesn't care which, as long as they can fight well."

"Where?" Biada asked.

"A city in the north – I don't know where it is. Vella? Bellat?"

"Velatt! I know it," said Zim. "But it's been peaceful for years. What happened?"

Gilla shook her head. "All I know is that one of the Dwars wants to overthrow the city's tyrannical jeddak and has gathered quite an army."

"Jador tyrannical?" Zim said scornfully, "That's ridiculous. He must be the least despotic jeddak on the planet."

"Then here's your chance to prove it," said Gilla. "His recruitment officer is in the square now".

"Well, I'm in," said Biada. "Life certainly holds no interest for me in Kobol." She looked at me. "What about you, Djora?"

"I don't think she'll be going anywhere," said Gilla. "I hear Djora has a day shift at the palace now."

"Mmm," Zim said as she swallowed a mouthful of stew. "Lucky you, Djora! How'd you manage that?"

"She has connections in the palace," Gilla answered, with a snide smile.

"Who?" asked several voices.

I looked up at Gilla with a warning – which she ignored. "Um, someone rather high up . . . "

"_Who_?" they asked, more emphatically.

"The Jeddak himself. I've heard that they rendezvous in the hanger every evening."

_Oh Issus_! I thought, giving them all a disgusted look. _Rendezvous_? The word she used in Barsoomian means a lovers' tryst. I stood up without a word, picked up my unfinished dinner and took it to my room.

But the day wasn't over. Though it was my day off, I still had an _appointment_ with Tarin.

He stood with one foot on the parapet, his arms crossed on his knee, looking out over his city. He didn't see me at first, and I stood for a long moment watching him, and wishing . . . _wishing nonsense_! The likes of me had no business wanting the likes of him. Keeping my expression firmly in check, I walked over to him.

I still don't understand what happened. When he heard my footsteps, he straightened quickly with a welcoming smile, and came to meet me with open arms. Without thinking, I walked into them and received such a tender kiss that just thinking about it makes me weep.

I gasped and pulled away as if I had touched fire. I _had_ touched fire. My body burned from his touch just as it had once before.

"No! _No!_ It's not _right_, Tarin!" I cried.

I spun on my toes and ran from the roof – and from him.

Two days later I was on my way to Velatt.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 - Tarin

As the time passed the following night with no sign of Djora, Tarin waited in growing despondency. When the sun set he returned to his rooms and spent a long wakeful night reliving his blunder. Sensing her strong attraction to him as she walked toward him, he had been provoked into kissing her. She had responded with a hesitant sweetness that had made him wonder if she had ever kissed anyone before.

But it was more than the sweetness that had shaken him to the core. He wondered if he had affected her in the same way she had affected him?

She had run from him. _It's not right_, she had said. How could a simple kiss not be right? Had the attraction really been one sided?

As the night dragged on, his mind refused to rest. She said she had come from "impoverished circumstances". Oh, he knew about poverty. On Earth, in Moon Valley, Lara and Carthan had lived off the land and worked hard to do so – what Lara called a "hand to mouth existence." Yet the impoverishment had been unimportant It was their closeness that mattered – their joys and sorrows however small, the adventures they experienced together and, always, the comfort of knowing someone was there to care.

Djora had never known any of that. Her poverty had not been solely of her living conditions, but of her soul. He tried to imagine her life without anyone there to _care_, and failed. No wonder she had run when a jeddak had kissed her! She probably felt as far removed from his life as – as an ulsio!

Which was as far from the truth as it was possible to be. She was bright and talented – only Cara was her superior at fighting – and when she allowed herself to relax with him, she never hesitated to speak her mind. She held herself with a natural dignity and though she wasn't pretty in the conventional sense, her eyes glowed with truth and lent her face another kind of beauty. If only she weren't so serious! But then he supposed, she had probably not had much laughter in her life.

His thoughts drifted into imagining her dressed in a glittering ball gown, her black hair down to her waist, wearing a diadem . . .

Short on sleep, he spent a few dreary hours the next day in the courts before calling an end to the torture. After an indifferent meal, he returned to the roof in great hope of finding Djora there as usual. He waited again until dark and then drifted down the ramps, his mind wandering.

As her name echoed in his mind he remembered what she had told him about it. Djora_. _Djor . . .

_Djor!_

Halting abruptly, he exclaimed, "_Great Issus_!" A guard climbing the ramp toward him grabbed the hilt of his sword in panic.

"My Lord?" the man said, eyes wide.

Tarin focused on the man, and grabbed his arm. "Djora – the day guard. Do you know where she is?"

The guard gulped. "Yes, my Lord. She has left Kobol."

Tarin gave him a blank look. "Left?"

"Yes, my Lord. She left just today with a contingent of panthans bound for Velatt."

"_Velatt_? Why?"

"I believe they were hired by the jeddak to defend the city from invasion."

Though Tarin stared at the man, his focus was haads away. He shook his head and sprang into a run. He found Lara and Carthan in the atrium sitting close together before the fire.

"I'm leaving," he announced without preamble.

Lara, always attuned to his thoughts, understood that he meant _departing the city alone._

"Why?" she asked with growing trepidation.

"I have to find her."

"Her? Who?"

"Djora. The hangar guard. We've been fencing. She – I – she ran. Lara, she doesn't know!"

Lara stood up, walked up to him and laid her hand on his arm. "My dear, you're not making sense. Come and sit down."

Tarin shook her off. "No time. Must leave now." He spun on a heel and ran from the room.

Lara and Carthan were still staring at each other ten heartbeats later when he returned. "Carthan, would you please find me a flight chart for the route between here and Velatt?

Tarin had agreed to Lara's stipulation that he would not fly at night, and left as the sun rose the next morning. With his future course of action settled, he had slept better than than he had in days. Because Gathol was along his route, Lara had also insisted he call on his Aunt Tara and her mate Gahan – no doubt hoping they would change his mind. That would not happen, he thought.

He landed on the palace roof forgetting that he was in disguise. The hanger guard took him into custody and Tarin cooled his heels in the guard room for an hour, furious with himself.

In spite of the black hair and copper pigment, Gahan recognized him instantly from his strong likeness to his twin, Cara, who not long ago had also appeared unannounced and in a similar disguise.

As Jeddak of Gathol and husband of John Carter's daughter, Gahan had long been resigned to the vagaries of his many Jasoomian relatives. He told the guard that he knew the man and assured him that, in spite of his threats and foul language, he would be much less dangerous after a meal. He remembered that Cara, as a child, had nicknamed Tarin "Grizzly" for his bad temper when he was hungry. Trying to recall what a "grizzly" was, Gahan led a growling Tarin to the common room where Tara fed her nephew as much as he could hold.

Sated, Tarin leaned back in his chair and apologized. "I came away without food."

"That is evident," said Gahan dryly from across the table looking pointedly at the now-empty plate. "Where are you bound – food-less, guard-less, and, may I add, thought-less?"

Tarin had the grace to took embarrassed. "I'm – looking for someone . . ."

"Alone?"

"Well, yes. I have to find her."

Gahan eyebrows rose. "Who?"

"A panthan."

"Oh? Why?" asked Gahan, beginning to feel as if he were milking moss.

"She was my fencing partner. She – I was – she left Kobol with a contingent of panthans to fight for Velatt – and she doesn't even know who she is!"

Tara caught her husband's eye from across the table and mouthed _she_?

Gahan tried to fill in a few of the blanks, and then gave it up. He was quite certain he'd get nothing sensible out of Tarin tonight.

He said, "I've heard Jador has been in difficulty. One of his odwars is a lunatic and has gathered quite a following by accusing Jador of being a tyrant. I've already sent a messenger offering Jador some of my militia, but haven't heard from him – not even a polite refusal. . ." He frowned and straightened in his chair. "Now _that_ worries me – he is punctilious with his royal courtesies."

Tarin said, "I know. He's a good man – and a good friend."

Gahan went on, "What do you plan to do when you get to Velatt?"

Tarin shrugged. "I have no idea. It will depend on what I find there. It can't be too difficult to find a troop of female panthans."

Gahan gave Tarin a long incredulous look. "You're not joking, are you?"

Tarin shook his head. "I've spent the last 10 years learning to be a jeddak. This was not on the curriculum. I only know I have no other choice."

Gahan looked at his jeddara, who suddenly came erect in alarm.

"No! _Now_ who's the lunatic!"

Tarin looked at each of them in turn in bewilderment.

Gahan said, with one eye on Tara, "I'm coming with you."

Tara threw up her hands. "_Two_ jeddaks to find one panthan? It sounds like an endgame of Jetan!" She glared at Tarin, "The stakes had better be worth it!"

Tarin said with a beatific smile, "She is."

Tara closed her eyes, muttering. "I don't believe this." She looked up at them with a stubborn set to her mouth. "I'm coming too."

"No!" said Gahan and Tarin simultaneously.

"You'll need me. How else will you infiltrate a company of female panthans?"

Their silence spoke for itself.

Next morning, Tara looked dubiously at Tarin's sleek new flyer gleaming in the rising sun. Guessing that it was one of Carthoris's latest creations, she said, "Rather conspicuous, isn't it?"

Gahan answered, rather regretfully she thought, "Yes, I suppose you're right. We'd better use the old one." He led the way to a corner of the hanger where he pulled a cover from an aging machine. Looking at it critically for a moment, he said, "I'll get some paint."

An hour later, with all insignia inexpertly blacked out, the flyer rose into the skies of Gathol carrying the world's newest panthans.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 - Djora

Most Barsoomians know better than to be out in a dust storm. Even indoors, the wind-driven dust can penetrate the smallest cracks around doors and windows, making breathing difficult and a nearly impossible mess to clean up. Even small storms can last for days. Globe-girdling storms can last weeks.

Kobol, like most cities, was built on bedrock to avoid the far more dangerous but less common sand storms. The skies were clear when we left Kobol, so it was just bad luck that our flyer flew into a sand storm on our way to Velatt. The pilot tried his best to go around or get above it, but the wind almost seemed deliberately to rise before us, forcing us to land. The air was so thick that the ground was invisible until we were nearly upon it. Only the pilot's swift reflexes saved us from disaster.

The storm lasted four days – the longest four days of my life. We huddled together covering our faces with anything we could find to filter the air we breathed. We couldn't eat – what food we had was contaminated with the dust that sifted in through joints in the hull. We filtered our water through our clothing.

Five of us were women – all from the hostel we had shared. With nine men, also panthans – one of them the pilot – we totalled 14. Three ships had left Kobol with other contingents but we didn't know if they had made it through. It was possible – they had left before us.

By the time the sky cleared, the flyer was half buried. Parched, hungry, and covered in dust, we stumbled out into the now-still air, gasping and coughing.

At that moment I would not have believed that it was possible to reach a lower ebb in my existence. I was staggered, then, when I was finally able to open my eyes, to see before us, sitting astride their huge thoats, a party of Warhoons.

We were incapable of fighting. Our weapons were buried under half an ad of dust in the flyer, we were weak and exhausted from starvation and lack of sleep – and, frankly, almost past caring whether we lived or died.

We made no resistence when we were captured and tossed up onto the backs of several banths, which carried three or four of us at a time. As the animals slogged across the nearly barren plain, we struggled to hang on. Though they did give us water, the Warhoons seemed not to notice that we were starving,. Throats hoarse, we could not speak to tell them – even if they had listened. As the days passed, we fell to the ground like children's dolls, unnoticed by our captors, never to rise again.

The ancient city of Horz lies directly on Exum, or zero longitude. This particular herd of Warhoons lived underground in what was left of its ruined buildings. By the time we reached it, only three of us were alive – Rab, the pilot; Zim, one of the women from the hostel; and me. I will never understand how I survived that trek.

When a female Warhoon pulled me down from the thoat, I couldn't walk, no matter how I tried. She finally gave up beating me about the head and carried me under one of her four arms into a space made from the wall of a house that had fallen over to lean on the top of huge blocks that had once comprised the city's fortifications. She dropped me onto a dirty pallet beside an open fire and, to my amazement, brought me some cold cooked thoat meat and a flagon of mantalia milk. Both are highly nutritious and, in fact, are the only sources of food for the Warhoons.

They do not, as is often rumoured, eat human flesh.

Within a few days I was back on my feet.

Warhoons, though vicious fighters, are otherwise lazy, and negligent about their personal habits. They live in filthy conditions and rather than clean up an accumulation of waste they will move elsewhere. Horz, being the only abandoned city for thousands of haads around, was the only semi-underground accommodation available to them and they had hit upon the idea of using human slaves for their housework

As I took up my duties as a drudge – cleaning, cooking, and carrying loads of wood for the fire – I grew stronger daily and began to take an interest again in the world around me. As long as I did my work, the female – her name was something like KoxaI – could find no reason to beat me.

One day, perhaps a week after our arrival, I was outside the city in a mantalia grove hacking at a plant to milk its sap when I became aware that someone else was doing the same. I couldn't see him well for the trees between us, but as he moved about I realized to my horror that his foot had been injured at some time in the past. Unattended, it had healed bent nearly at a right angle to his ankle. He tried hard not to put his weight on it, but when he did, he winced visibly. The tender skin along the edge of his foot was red and swollen from long abuse. I thought it might be infected.

Slowly I made my way toward him, and when in earshot, I called, "Kaor!"

He looked up with pain-filled eyes. Voice tight, he said, "Kaor," and looked away again.

He was a pitiful specimen of my race – emaciated, unkempt and wearing rags. His hair hung in long tangled ropes down his back to his waist, and the hopeless look in his eyes made me catch my breath in sympathy. He looked barely strong enough to stand.

"What is your name?" I asked.

He paused a moment gazing unseeingly into the distance. "I think it may be Lor." He lacked enough interest to ask me mine.

"How long have you been here?"

"I do not know. Forever."

I nearly asked him why he hadn't tried to escape. But how, after all, _could_ he escape in his condition!

When we had filled our jugs, I returned to the city with him. I gave him a broken branch to ease the pressure on his foot, but he found it awkward to carry the jug without spilling it. I took it from him, and he nodded absently. Using both hands he was able to walk faster, and when we reached the ruins he took the jug and made his way farther into the ancient streets.

The Warhoons, knowing we had no way to escape, didn't bother to watch us, and I found I had a small amount of freedom to explore. One morning, when I saw Lor limping past with a full jug of milk, I followed him. He entered a building that had lost one of its walls, the ruins lying in a shattered heap in the street. Staying well back for fear of attracting the attention of his keeper, I watched him as he made his careful way down a ramp into the pits – which the Warhoons favoured as the best shelter from dust storms.

Keeping alert, I followed him down two flights to a smoky space lit dimly by a wide crack in the foundation. Alone in the room, he set the jug on the floor and made a half-hearted effort to stoke the fire, the smoke venting lazily through the crack. He then collapsed in exhaustion on a pile of thoat skins.

I crept over to him on silent feet. When I touched his shoulder he jerked in alarm.

"Forgive me for startling you – I should have warned you first."

Lor fell back on the skins. "It matters not. The Warhoon does it all the time." He added as an afterthought, "Rather less gently."

He then focused on me slowly, and his sluggish brain began to work. "What are you doing here – he'll kill you if he finds you here."

"I only wanted to tell you that I wish to help. I have ointment that will help your injury." (All panthans carry medical kits). I looked down at his foot, discovering it was far worse than I had first thought.

He shook his head from side to side on the floor. "Don't bother. If the infection spreads I will be dead and there will be an end to this hell." He looked at me angrily. "Leave, woman, I don't want your help." He turned his back upon me.

I looked down at him, thinking, and then left without speaking.

For the next few days I watched the pits where he lived. Warhoons spend much of their time in daylight hours hunting wild thoats for food. Lor's master invariably joined them, as did my mistress Koxal on occasion.

On the first morning that both of them left for the hunt, I grabbed my medical kit and a few other supplies and ran down to Lor's pit. He was awake, sitting awkwardly before the fire. I walked over to him and said, "Lie down."

He looked up in astonishment, and then a grin transformed his face. I rolled my eyes. "That's _not_ what I meant!" I said, mortified.

Still amused, he straightened his legs and lay back watching, his hands behind his head. I busied myself by laying out my supplies, one of which was a basin which I filled with water and heated over the fire. As I proceeded to wash his foot, I had the odd thought that touching him was far different from touching Tarin. All I felt for Lor was pity.

When the foot was cleaned of both dirt and infection, I applied healing salve, and wrapped the foot in a rag I had washed and dipped in boiling water the previous day. I could do nothing for the broken bones, but covering the skin would protect it, at least for awhile.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 – Tarin

Young by the standards of the rest of Barsoom, the City of Velatt boasted buildings that were cleanly designed and well laid out, its streets wide and smoothly paved. But Velatt had been rebuilt in recent years over the bones of a much older city, some of which still remained in use. Though crumbling back into the earth, many of the surviving structures offered inexpensive shelter for wanderers and panthans. There, too, the taverns thrived, as they do in the slums of most cities.

The two jeddaks and Tara found rooms in a decrepit hostel – the only one of many they had investigated that had doors that could be locked. They sat in Tarin's room, discussing their next move.

"We have to change our names," said the ever-practical Tara.

"I'll be Galann," said Gahan. "Close enough to my own name in case you happen to forget." He looked pointedly at Tarin.

Tarin grinned, well aware of his tendency to be absentminded.

"What of Berrin?" he suggested for himself.

Both Gahan and Tara nodded.

"And I'll be Mara," Tara said. "Now what?"

"Sustenance first," said Gahan, rising. "Then we begin searching."

Lunch was a simple meal of savory flatbread mounded with thinly sliced thoat, and a mug of "ale". (There is no Earthly equivalent to Barsoomian ale.) Sated, the three began wandering into taverns, casually inquiring about recent arrivals of female panthans. When the sun set four hours later, they had learned nothing useful.

Their luck turned when they decided on dinner in a large tavern. Sitting at a trestle table with several other diners, Gahan struck up a conversation with a panthan across from him.

"How long have you been in Velatt?" he asked.

"About ten days. We're most of us from Kobol."

Tarin sat up straight. "We're looking for a woman – a panthan named Djora. Do you know her?"

The man said, "Yes, but she didn't make it to Velatt."

"What!" Tarin said, inadvertently slamming his tankard on the table. "How do you know?"

"Three flyers took off from Kobol. Only two arrived."

"What do you think happened?" asked Tara.

"On our way here, we spotted a huge sand storm bearing down on us from the north west. We managed to avoid it. The third ship, which left last, must have flown right into it."

Gahan said, "Any idea where it might have gone down?"

"The storm was between us and Horz. If they went down in the storm, that ship won't rise again." He shook his head gloomily. "They'll be either dead or on foot in Warhoon territory. That's all I know."

It was more than Tarin wanted to hear.

When the three returned to the hostel, they stared at each other in gloomy silence.

Taking a deep breath, Tarin said, "I have to find her. You need not come."

Gahan and Tara exchanged a look. Gahan said, "Tarin, have you any idea what you're doing? There are thousands of square haads of nothing out there. She could be anywhere!"

Tarin said, "I'm going to start with Horz. If she's not there I'll start walking until I find her. Or her body."

Tara shook her head in wonder. "The things the Carter men do for their mates!" She got up and put her arms around him. "My dear nephew, you won't be alone."

In an attempt to take his mind from his troubles, Lara added, "Now, tell us about this – what was her name? Djora? I think we'd better know more about her since she's evidently going to be one of the family."

Late the next afternoon and flying in low, Tarin landed on the far side of a mantalia grove opposite the shattered main gates of Horz – the same grove from which Djora obtained the sap supply. On hands and knees, all three crept to the edge of the stand from which they had a clear view of the old city. Just before sunset a dozen thoats and Warhoon riders materialized out of the dusty horizon with evidence of a successful hunt – several wild thoat carcasses slung over the backs of three riding beasts.

Returning to the flyer for the night, they were up early the next morning, watching. The first person they saw was Djora, making her way across the sand toward the grove. A few ads behind her, a man emerged from the gate, limping and using a stick for balance. Both carried milk jugs.

The three watchers moved quickly back into the trees, not wishing to be seen by Djora until all were out of sight of the city.

Tarin had a clear view of her as she made her way slowly through the grove, seeking a suitable tree. She was much thinner than the last time he'd seen her. Her face was drawn and she seemed weary and dejected. He wondered what sort of treatment she had received at the hands of the Warhoons and clenched his hands in fury.

While Tarin studied Djora, Tara watched the man. Suddenly she stiffened and clutched her husband's arm. "Gahan!" she whispered. "Oh Issus, _look_ at him!"

Gahan tipped his head to obtain a better view of the man's face. He, too, drew in his breath sharply. "I don't believe it. He disappeared decades ago . . ." His eyebrows came together. "Surely he hasn't been here that long . . .!"

Djora reached them at that moment, stopping abruptly in alarm when she saw the three of them standing before her with varying degrees of anger, incredulity and pity on their faces. She, too, gasped in shock as she instantly recognized Tarin, in spite of his disguise.

She looked straight at him and said angrily, "You idiot! How could you put yourself in danger like this!"

All three grinned at her. Tarin because he knew from her words that she loved him. Gahan and Tara because they agreed with her assessment.

Tarin stepped up to her, grasped her hands, and kissed them. "Beloved, I had no choice. You left without explanation."

Still furious, though distracted by his touch and his incredible words, she glanced at his companions and said, "Who else have you brought into danger?"

Tarin said absently, "Oh – this is Gahan and Tara."

Djora's eyes widened as she took a deep incredulous breath. "Of – of _Gathol_?"

Tarin realized his mistake. Far too late, he said, "Um, Galann and D-Mara?"

Tara sputtered, convulsed with laughter, and clapped a hand to her mouth..

Failing to see anything amusing, Djora stared at them. "Are you all insane? Have you any idea what you . . ."

"Warhoons coming!" came a hoarse whisper from Lor, who had been out of hearing range, and was now staggering toward them.

All heads swivelled toward the city. Six males, apparently attracted by some sound or movement in the grove, were running toward them in their swift rolling gait.

Three long swords slithered from their scabbards. As he neared, breathing in audible gasps, Lor whispered hoarsely, "Tara, Gahan – give us your short swords!" Tara handed hers to Djora, hilt first, while Gahan tossed his to Lor, who snatched it out of the air.

Though sword work was difficult within the grove, fortuitously for the humans the closeness of the trees forced one-on-one matches. The five humans also had the advantage of quicker reflexes than the much bigger, slower, and less adept Warhoons.

Djora, frantic, tried to do everything at once – defend herself while trying to keep an eye on all four of the royals.

Tarin tried to watch Djora but he was too busy to help her. His opponent was using _two_ swords and it was all he could do, even with his swift earthly reactions, to keep from being beheaded.

Gahan dispatched his Warhoon with a long-armed slice at its carotid, while Tara drove the point of her sword into her opponent's heart before he could swing twice.

But it was Lor who amazed them all. Though weak and rusty, he had not lost his obvious proficiency with a blade. Ignoring his injury and driven by decades-deep vengeance, he killed two of the Warhoons in quick succession with blindingly quick jabs to eye and throat. Then, with his minimal resources depleted, he collapsed to the ground, groaning from the pain of his abused foot.

Djora, now freed of responsibility and wondering why she'd worried, made short work of her opponent, and ran to Lor. His foot was bleeding profusely.

Tara took one look and said, "Tarin, bring Lor to the ship. We'll tend to him there."

Half Jasoomian Tarin easily picked up Lor and carried him to the flyer. The women worked over him, first giving him a hefty dose of analgesic and then removing the filthy rags that no longer qualified as clothing. By the time they finished hacking off his hopelessly tangled hair with a dagger, bathing and dressing him, and then salving and binding his foot, Lor had relaxed against the cushions of his chair, out of pain and _clean_ for the first time since . . . he couldn't remember.

"Oh Issus, this is won . . ." he sighed, and fell into a dreamless slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 - Djora

"Well!" said Gahan, slapping his knees and rising to move to the flyer's console. "Time to go."

"I cannot," I said indignantly.

Three pairs of royal eyes stared at me. Refusing to allow their rank to intimidate me any longer, I said, "I came here with Zim and Rab. We were the only survivors from the crash. And there are at least another dozen humans slaving for these filthy Warhoons. How can you think of leaving them behind?"

Tara broke a very long uncomfortable silence. "All right. Why don't I take Lor to Duhor while you three see what you can do? I'll bring back the big cargo carrier for transport – we'll never get everyone in here."

"Now that is an excellent suggestion," Gahan said, adding dryly, " Nice to know there'll be one of us left." He stood up and walked to his wife, hugging her fiercely and bestowing a long kiss upon her mouth.

Tara said, "If you're not here when I get back, I'll kill you myself."

Which didn't make sense to me, but seemed to be a standing joke between them.

After we unloaded all the supplies except those necessary for Tara and Lor on their flight, the two left within the hour.

As we watched the flyer disappear from view I asked Tarin, "Why Duhor?"

"Vad Varo is there," he answered matter-of-factly, as if I should know. I had no idea what he meant.

While Tarin and Gahan carried the supplies to a ruined outbuilding we had chosen for our headquarters, I frantically filled my jug with Mantalia sap and hurried back to the city. Koxal would be back from the hunt soon and I had little time. I knew where some of my compatriots were, having encountered several of them on our mutual sapping expeditions, but we had hardly spoken. However, if I could tell even one or two of them of our plans for escape, I was certain word would spread among all of them in a short time.

I found Zim, crouching before a fire listlessly cooking thoat steaks. She gave me a bleak look that tore at my soul. I squatted beside her and said gently, "Help is on the way, Zim. We are to be rescued in a few days. Are there any others you can tell?"

She seemed to have difficulty comprehending my words. "Tell? I – I don't know . . . "

I ran my hand over her sand-filled hair. "It's all right, Zim. I'll come for you."

Rab, in a much better physical state, reacted with a hopeful smile. "I'll be ready," he said. "I know several others on this street and will pass the word."

Koxal was in the shelter when I returned. Hungry and tired from the hunt, she shouted at me, wanting to know where I'd been and why wasn't dinner ready. I did not give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream when she beat me, and somehow managed to protect my face.

Within two days I was fairly certain every human in the city was informed and prepared for escape. Rab and I worked out a word-of-mouth system which would inform everyone within moments of Lara's arrival.

Then it would be a matter of good planning – and a great deal of luck.

After milking mantalias on the third morning after Tara's departure, I managed to get to our "headquarters" for a quick strategy session. Both Tarin and Gahan look relieved as I walked into the old ruin where they had set up camp.

I did not resist when Tarin wrapped his arms around me. He hurt my bruises and I tried not to flinch – but it also felt wonderful and for the first time, to my amazement, It felt _right_.

"Thank Issus you're safe," he murmured in my ear.

I smiled up at him. "Hardly safe, my Lord, but definitely hopeful."

He held me away from him with mock anger. "_What_ did you call me?"

Uncomfortable with such intimacy in the presence of Gahan, I shook my head and drew away from Tarin with an apologetic smile. This was no time for banter.

I said, "Everyone has been contacted and is ready to leave at a moment's notice. Rab will initiate a word-of-mouth relay to inform them. We must plan now for the escape. I don't know when I'll have the opportunity again."

Gahan asked, "What are the Warhoons' habits?" 

"In short," I said, "they hunt by day, afterwards gorging themselves senseless on thoat meat and that vile mantalia ale. Then they sleep like the dead all night . . ."

"Sounds straightforward enough," Tarin said. "We escape at night."

". . . except for the guards," I said. "They never leave Horz unguarded."

"How many guards?" Gahan asked.

I said, "Two at the main gate, and five more on thoats patrolling the rest of the city wall."

"Then we'll have to take out the gate guards," Gahan said. "It may even be enough if the human slaves are as alert and ready as you say."

"They may be alert and ready, but I cannot vouch for their individual physical condition. I think that my panthan friend, Zim, may have to be carried out. And you saw Lor."

"I did indeed," said Gathan, "but even he had reserves he didn't know he possessed."

"True," I agreed, thinking about Lor's incredible performance, "but we must be prepared for a sorry lot. I wish there were more of us . . ."

That was unarguable, and I left the two jeddaks sitting in gloomy contemplation.

Six days later, when Tara had not yet appeared, Jahan was nearly out of his mind with worry. Toward evening, after a long day of watching, he spotted his old flyer drifting in very low over the eastern horizon – and then a cargo flyer close behind, both moving slowly to avoid stirring up dust. He was standing outside the opening hatch of the first when Tara threw herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry, love," she said. "We had to detour around dust storms going and coming, and everything in between took longer than I anticip . . . "

Gahan kissed her to silence. "It's all right, beloved. You're here now."

"And I've brought help," she said with a grin, waving a hand at the widening hatch of the cargo flyer.

Disbelieving, I grabbed Tarin's arm to steady myself. Instead of the contingent of militia I had hoped for, Cara and Kantos Kan dropped down to the sand. Breaking into a run, Cara threw herself into her brother's arms. She said something to him sternly in another language which led to a spirited exchange that made them both laugh. I watched them enviously, wondering what it would be like to have a sibling.

He then introduced me to her. "Djora was a member of Danalla's militia."

Cara came up to me where I stood speechless, wishing he had not told her. Instead of condemnation, she hugged me instead, an act of affection to which I am unaccustomed, and I'm afraid I was too dazed to react.

She said, "I'm so pleased you escaped that fiasco. Tara tells me you are concerned about our safety, but my dear Djora, don't worry. The six of us could conquer all Barsoom if we had the inclination."

I stared at her, wide-eyed and shaking my head. "I believe you. You're all completely mad, but Issus, I believe you!"

Kantos Kan had come up behind her, saying with a chuckle, "Our First Ancestors forbid that we ever find the inclination!" He seemed to be studying my face as if trying to read my thoughts, and I felt uncomfortable under that scrutiny.

Gahan interrupted, "When you've recovered a little, Djora, may I suggest that we waste no more time and arrange for a rescue tonight?"

Following a quick confirmation of our strategy, I fled back to Horz, leaving behind me the elite of Barsoomian society preparing for war.

By midnight, word had been passed to all the humans in Horz. Low in the sky, only Cluros lent its faint light. Like wraiths, the enslaved humans slipped through the streets from shadow to shadow until all were gathered near the main gates. The moment Cluros set, Kantos Kan and Jahan crept unseen from where they had been hidden behind fallen boulders. The gate guards never saw them coming.

Tarin, who had also hidden, ran through the gates to find me waiting and I led him to the shelter where Zim lived. He picked her up gently and laid her over his shoulder. She was barely conscious. Joining the escapees, we then set out across the sand toward the mantalia grove. When a hoarse shout rang out, I swivelled my head to see thundering down upon us a Warhoon guard on his thoat.

"We're discovered!" I cried.

Two torches on either side of the gate gave the only light in the nearly complete darkness. A slim figure – I couldn't then make out who it was – sprang impossibly onto the thoat's back to attack its rider. As the guard fell dead to the ground, the thoat came to a standstill while Cara slipped off.

But that wasn't the end of it. The guard's shout had wakened a few of the sleeping Warhoons in nearby shelters and we soon had our hands full. Driven by black hatred and a determination not to be retaken, some of the stronger slaves had armed themselves with carving knives. The drunken Warhoons they faced had no chance in the face of such mass desperation. Even I, who thought I had seen the worst of war, was sickened at the sight of what was left.

The fight was short and conclusive. When silence lay around us at last, we limped across the sand, through the mantalia woods, and boarded the flyers


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 – Djora

Rab, who had agreed to pilot the cargo carrier, wasted no time taking off for Gathol with the former slaves. My royal companions and I left at a more leisurely pace on board Gahan's flyer,.

When I noticed they were not heading south-east, but north-east, I asked, "Where are we going?"

Tarin said, "We're going to Velatt."

"Why?" I asked, surprised.

"We thought you might wish to take up the duties for which you were hired."

Speechless, I looked at their five serious faces, and could only assume they were taking their revenge for being conscripted into my cause. "I – yes, of course," I said bleakly.

Tara, taking pity, grinned. "Oh, my dear, forgive us! We're teasing you. We have far more important business in Velatt. Gahan intends to offer Jeddak Jador his assistance, and Kantos and Cara are here as representatives of John Carter, who is holding his militia at the ready. By good fortune I happened to be in Gathol when they stopped in, and when they learned about my mission they offered to help us rescue the Warhoons' slaves."

Feeling overwhelmed, I looked at Cara and her mate, suddenly aware that one of the most powerful men on the planet was helping _me!_. "_T_-_Tola_ to you both. I - we could not have done it without you."

While the five discussed strategy, I remained silent, feeling again very much out of place in this stratospheric company. I was, after all, only a panthan and had no business in such circles.

Some hours later while hovering over the walls of Velatt, we were appalled to discover that the plain surrounding the city teemed with warriors.

"I estimate three thousand," said a grim Gahan.

"I, too," said Tarin. "The majority appear to be panthans."

We landed in the palace's hangar and were conducted to Jador's reception room. Young and vigorous and much of an age with Tarin, he seemed very much distraught by the fate that had befallen him. "Tarin!" he cried, gripping both of Tarin's shoulders in an affectionate greeting.

Tarin, returning the welcome with a grin, said, "You seem to be in difficulty, my friend. How could this have happened – to you, of all people?"

Jador shook his head in bewilderment. "Dwar Xan Din was my father's chief military aide. I never understood why my father had trusted him. He was an arrogant fool and obnoxious to me as a youth, so when I took the throne I dismissed him. It was then that the rumours began about my so-called "tyranny" – and you know how rumour can spread." He shrugged. "Now I am at my wits' end."

Tarin gave him an encouraging smile. "There is hope for you now. I bring you Gahan of Gathol, whom I believe you have met." The two men clasped shoulders.

"And this is my sister Cara and her mate, Kantos Kan, who represents the Warlord.

Young Jador looked as overwhelmed as I had been upon meeting that remarkable couple. Following a few more pleasantries, everyone relaxed in luxurious chairs for a council of war while I sat at attention perched on the edge of my seat. I listened while they discussed the hiring of more panthans, distribution of troops, and various other means of defending of the city.

It was what I did _not _hear that disturbed me.

No longer caring what they thought, I rose abruptly and left the room. As I fled down the ramps, I heard Tarin calling my name, but I kept running until I had left the palace and was well away from its main square.

My panthan tunic had been ruined at Horz (Tara lent me one of hers), but nontheless offered a recognition sign to a pair of male panthans on the street. They gave me the direction for female accommodation and a half hour later I had checked in at a run-down hostel.

I purchased panthan trappings from a street seller – tunic, belt and harness – and found passable weapons and armour at another stall. Tara's elegant tunic paid for it all. I spent a few hours tracking down the panthans from Kobol. Astounded to see me alive, they questioned me closely and I was forced to lie, saying I had been fortuitously found wandering in the wastelands starving after the sandstorm and that no sign could be found of our downed flyer.

Who, after all, would have believed the truth!

I spent hours in the following days training in the arena with the mixed group of panthans, regaining the strength I had lost in Horz. Many hundreds of panthans were pouring into the city at the behest of Jeddak Jador, and rumours flew that John Carter's famed militia would soon arrive. I also spent much time in the public houses taking in the conversations around me. Much truth is to be learned in taverns while sipping at one flagon of ale for an entire evening!

One night I was expounding on something or other with several new friends, when I realized I had lost my audience. All my companions were staring up at a man standing beside me who gently placed his hand on my shoulder. My body was suffused with that heady warmth I had only felt a few times before.

Slowly I looked up at Tarin.

Still in his panthan disguise, the Jeddak of Kobol met my eyes. "Jador wishes to see you," he said and handed me a parchment.

I scanned it. "I do not know the script."

He looked around the table. "Is anyone from Velatt?"

One panthan raised a hand into which Tarin placed the document. "Read it," he said.

The panthan's eyes widened as he skimmed it, and then he read aloud: "'Jador, Jeddak of Velatt, requests the presence of the panthan Djora at the palace upon receipt of this directive'". The panthan added, "It is signed by his hand and sealed with his sigil."

As Lara says, when there is no choice, one must accept the inevitable. I rose slowly, nodded a farewell at my companions, and walked to the door with Tarin trailing behind me. Once out on the street, I swung on him angrily. "Why!"

"Because I love you and there is so much you do not know."

"I don't belong in your palaces. I am a simple panthan!"

"Not so simple, Djora." He took my hands in his. "Please come with me."

Issus knows I tried to resist him, but this time his touch seemed to break open something in my mind. His thoughts and memories flowed into me at such a rate that my head spun. Staggered, I said, "What is happening to me? This isn't possible!"

He grinned. "_Much_ better – I've been waiting for that."

"For – for what?"

"For something you've been denying yourself all your life – an open mind, affection, love, rapport – there are many words for it." He looked around at the busy street and seemed abruptly to realize where we were. "Come with me, Djora. We can't stay here."

When we reached the palace we climbed the ramps and returned to the same room from which I had fled. The same people were there: Cara and Kantos, Gahan and Tara, and Jador.

Tara approached me with a smile. "My dear Djora, it's good to have you back. Will you please tell us why you left so abruptly?"

I shook my head. "It would be presumptuous . . ."

"Never," said Tarin in my ear. "Whether you believe it or not, you _are _one of us. I think we need to hear what you have to say."

I looked at each of them – three jeddaks, a jeddara and a jed – took a deep breath and said, "Very well. Your strategy is all wrong."

Instead of anger, I received their undivided attention. I continued, "For the past week I have been listening in the taverns – to the panthans, to the people of this city. Jador," I said, forgetting how impertinent it was to adddress him thus, "this is their city too. They do not see you as a tyrant – they know better than to believe Xan Din's propaganda. Though they appreciate the presence of the panthans, they want to help defend Vanatt. Every one of them – men, women and youth. Send them through those gates and they will take their city back!"

"Women and youth?" Jador repeated in disbelief. "You cannot be serious!"

"None of you appear to know panthans very well. Do you not understand that we have our own code of conduct? _'No panthan shall take the life of an unarmed civilian or allow illegal militia to do so'. _Send your panthans out there and you will have your war. Too many men will die.

"Send unarmed civilians and Xan Din's panthans will fight his militia."

Kantos Kan said, "I have heard of this code, but have never seen it put to the test like this." He looked at me searchingly. "Do you really believe it will work?"

Remembering that Tarin had once asked me if I were honourable, I said, "On my honour as a Panthan, I believe it will work."

Gahan, who had been watching in silence, said, "That's good enough for me. Do it, Jador."

Jador stood, staring unseeing at his city through the window. I didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking. _What if she's wrong? What if thousands of them are killed?_

Kantos Kan walked over to the young jeddak and placed his hand on his shoulder. He leaned close and said something softly into Jador's ear. Jador suddely stood erect, staring at me for a long moment. He said decisively, "Yes, we will do it. How do we begin?"

I looked at all of them in turn, wondering what was going on. _What was it they had not told me! _

Ordering my thoughts, I said, "It will work as it did in Horz. Choose a day and time, tell a few, and soon all will know. But it must be soon – perhaps tomorrow so that word does not spread to the enemy."

Jador immediately recruited his entire palace staff and guards to circulate through the city, spreading the word. On the afternoon of the following day, the whole civilian population had gathered before the gates, many in fear, most in anticipation, but all determined to save their city. Hundreds of the panthans presently in the city donned civilian dress and joined the cause.

When the gates swung open, ten thousand determined people walked across the sands toward the massed panthans and troops of Xan Din.

The battle was short. Xan Din lay dead with his troops and not a single civilian died or was hurt.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 – Djora

The celebrations lasted many days, and Jador was called on repeatedly to acknowledge the cheers of his people from a palace window. Finally, getting no rest from the adulation, he decided to have it done with, and rode his white thoat through the teeming streets surrounded by his worried guardsmen. They need not have been concerned. I suspect that anyone who had tried to kill him would have been torn limb from limb.

The six of us left for Gathol several days later.

The others chatted cheerfully and incessantly en route about everything under the moons, carefully avoiding any subject that might have to do with _me_! Once again I felt alienated from them, though Tarin did his best to include me. By the time we reached Gathol I was ready to run again, but he sensed it and kept me close at hand.

I was given a luxurious suite in the old walled castle, which brought vivid and uncomfortable memories of the time I was with a group of Danalla's assassins who had been ordered to kill Tara. Even then I had been an admirer of the Jasoomians, and had subtly intervened in several duels with Gahan's guardsmen, preventing serious injury on both sides.

We remained in Gathol for some time after Cara and Kantos Kan left for Helium as Tarin did not seem anxious to return to Kobol to take up his duties. He did not approach me again with words of affection, or even a touch. I felt bereft, though I had no right to be, and I had the impression from him that he was waiting for something.

While we waited for whatever it was, we resumed our daily sword practice and played at Jetan [Barsoomian chess] every evening. Jetan is a game well known to Panthans as good training for strategy. We were well matched – our games often ended in draws.

Tara finally announced that a formal dinner would be held three days hence, though she gave no hint of the reason for the occasion. She asked me to join her in her suite the next day and, since we are of a size, offered me the pick of her gowns for the event. I had never owned a ball gown and had no idea where to begin. With her help I settled on what I considered a simple, deep green dress.

As I descended the ramp that evening I felt relaxed and inconspicuous. It was fortunate that I did not know, until Cara told me later, that I would be "the envy of every woman present!"

Tarin was waiting at the bottom of the ramp. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and with a grin he tucked my hand under his arm. He led me into a reception room, where I stopped short trying to take in the faces of those awaiting us, and uncomfortably aware that all eyes were upon _me._

I was staggered to see a number of people I had never expected to be there, among them Cara and Kantos Kan, who were supposed to be in Helium. To one side was a handsome couple I had never seen before, but the man bore a marked resemblance to John Carter – Carthoris. Standing beside him was the one woman on Barsoom whom I most admired - Thuvia. And, _Oh Issus!_ – my nails bit into Tarin's arm – Lara and Carthan!

But there was another man regarding me with intense interest who was standing with Kantos Kan and Cara. Wearing full court regalia, his bejewelled weapons gleaming, it was . . .

"Lor!" I cried in amazement, hurrying toward him.

I stopped short. "Lor?" I asked again, suddenly in doubt. But it _was_ he. Though still too slim for his height, he had gained strength and colour, and he stood tall and straight on both feet. There was no sign of any injury.

But what had struck me was the incredible resemblance between Lor and Kantos Kan.

Kantos Kan held out his hand to me and, as I took it hesitantly, drew me closer. He said softly, his voice vibrating with emotion, "Djora, I would like you to meet Djor Kantos, my son – and your father."

I was in instant denial. "No. Impossible," I said flatly.

Lor – Djor! – stepped quickly toward me and took my other hand. "It's true, Djora – you were named for me. And how else would I know that the name of the Ancient who cared for you was Illora? In fact Illora – _'Lor_' – was all I could remember when you asked for my name in Horz."

I stared at him, shaking my head. I had never told anyone her name.

Kantos said, "Illora was not merely your caregiver, Djora, but as an old family retainer she was your father's nurse – and _mine_! – when we were newly hatched. When the day came that she thought she was too old to be of use, she left us."

Djor said, "I should not have entrusted your incubator to a woman of such extreme age, but at the time I had no choice. And, of course, I had every expectation of returning for you and rewarding her generously. Tarin has told me of your poverty-stricken youth, and I am devastated that it was so difficult for you both."

To deflect the focus from _me_, I asked, "How did you come to be in Horz?"

Djor replied, "I was on a mission to Dusar for the Warlord when my flyer was caught up in a violent dust storm and blown off course. When I finally managed to bring it under control the instruments had been damaged by dust and I knew not where I was. The sky was so thick with dust the sun was invisible and I had no idea of direction. I flew on blindly the wrong way. Eventually the radium engine failed and I was forced to land.

"I wandered in the wasteland for days and was close to death when the warhoons found me. I put up a token resistance, but one of them struck my head with the flat of his sword. My mind went blank at that point and I remembered little until I saw the familiar faces of Tara and Gahan in the mantalia grove outside Horz and my memories flooded back."

Stricken, I whispered, "Then you were in Horz for as long as I have been alive?"

He nodded.

"But your foot – ?"

" – was a recent injury. I have no recollection of how it was broken." He smiled, "Vad Varo has made it new again."

"And my m-mother?" – an unfamiliar word that had never before passed my lips.

"Your mother was Olvia Marthis. We were wed many years before she was mature enough to reproduce. Unfortunately she died before you broke the egg." The pain of his loss was still evident in his eyes. With his memory only recently restored, her death would still be fresh in his mind.

Though my father was still a stranger to me, I threw myself into his arms. We both wept - the tears, cathartic, washing away the long years of loneliness and bitterness and deprivation. When I drew away from him at length, I turned toward Tarin with laughter on my lips and love in my eyes - and absolutely no doubt about my future.

I had a family now - and _what_ a family!

Tarin pulled me close, "Well, my Princess, it's your move."

I gave him a dewy smile. "Panthan takes Jeddak. Checkmate, my Chieftain!"

END


End file.
